Loveable Pest
by shattered petal
Summary: Miles remains completely baffled as to why his daughter is immune to her mother's chilling glares. -republished


**author's note**: This is a very old fiction that I published on my previous account, so my writing isn't as good in this. Kudos to you if you recognise it! Expect some inevitable OOCness in this. I hope you enjoy it!

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><p><strong>Title<strong>: Loveable Pest  
><strong>Genres<strong>: Family/Humour  
><strong>Rating<strong>: K+  
><strong>Couple<strong>: Slight Miles/Olivier

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><p>Miles smiled in amusement.<p>

The sound of something smashing in the other room was heard, then a youth's joyful laughter, followed by some sort of demented exclaim. In a few seconds the door was opened and a young girl was shoved into the room, her senior then stating, 'I think this belongs to you,' and then the door was slammed securely shut.

He grinned and swivelled his eyes towards his daughter who didn't seem at all bothered about her mother's punishment. In fact, her large beam proved otherwise.

'She completely lost it this time,' the girl sniggered, climbing onto the bed and sitting beside her father's feet, '. . . Not that it was my fault or anythin'. I mean, all I wanted to do was to twy out her sword–'

'Ahh,' Miles interjected, raising a finger, 'You don't need to tell me anymore. I guess I can figure out what happens afterwards. . .' their eyes met, '. . . what happened?'

'Accidently thwew it acwoss her office. Think I bwoke a window or sommet.'

Miles rolled his eyes, 'Now you've done that she's going to be telling _me_ off.'

'Tssk, why're you so scared of mum?'

The half-Ishvalan snorted, 'How comes you're _not_?'

It was true that the young girl was not actually afraid of her own mother, but it was also surprising. Miles, along with many other colleagues, had wondered how the child would pan out for having such a frightening woman for a mother, but apparently the child was more than content with the whole idea. Miles tried to figure out why the girl was so immune to her mother's horrifying glares and chilly voice that sent many men (and women) on edge.

To prove more that the girl didn't care, she _deliberately_ made her mother mad. This would then result to the Major General completely losing her cool and throwing objects towards a fading away figure whilst exclaiming useless words, or by the daughter being chucked out of the way to the father, who would quite happily spend as much time with his daughter as possible.

Rachel was nearing six and had grown a strong bondage with Briggs Bears. She would actually spend the majority of her free time chatting away with them, or asking if she could wear a part of their uniform, hold one of their guns and – if lucky – _use_ a gun.

She was nothing like her mother though. Miles wasn't sure whom she had inherited this attitude from. She was too wild and loved to talk way too much. It drove her mother mad.

Miles had been curious as to how his child would look like if he conceived with an Amestrian. To his surprise, Rachel looked pretty normal: bright blue eyes, slightly tanned skin and grey/white hair that flicked out.

'You don't know your mother the way I do,' Miles explained, 'The amount of times she's nearly chopped my head off.'

'She does that with me all the time,' Rachel replied, flicking her wrist without a care, 'Why d'ya like her then if she scares you?'

'To be honest, _that_ is probably one of the reasons why I do like her.'

'. . . You're stwange.'

'I know, dear.'

The same door opened again and both heads swivelled around to see who was entering. To their relief, it was a tiny boy, dressed in pyjamas way too big for him. He yawned and rubbed his eye, a teddy bear held limply in his left hand.

'Dada?'

Miles was more than overjoyed to have _both_ of his own children in the room, and he instantly went to pick up his little boy and take him over to the bed where the boy's sister was sat. Miles' son rested in his lap and yawned wide again, before squeezing his teddy.

'You should be asleep, Edward,' Miles said.

'Couldn't,' Edward answered drowsily, blinking, and then frowning towards his sister, 'Why does Rachel always stay up and I can't?'

'Well Rachel _shouldn't_ be up,' Miles corrected, raising an eyebrow towards his daughter who merely shrugged, 'It's late. Past eleven, in fact. Most of the soldiers will be in bed by now, you know?'

'Whatever,' Rachel muttered, earning a frown from her father.

Edward exhaled slowly and huddled up against Miles' chest.

It would be correct to say that the boy was more like his mother. In fact, he was very, _very_ like her. He tended to keep himself to himself, and rarely socialised with Briggs men. He, unlike his sister, got on with his mother better and was in her company more than his father's. It wasn't like Edward preferred one over the other – he just found another comfort out of his female parent. He also had this strange patience about him, and was very paranoid about what was fair and what was not – a trait his mother strongly had.

However huddling up next to daddy was a luxury. He was so warm and gave very firm hugs. Mummy barely had the time to offer such comfort, and whenever she was able to it would only be for a minute or so. Edward looked up to her though – more than he should. He also had features similar to her: pale face, very bright hair, but his eyes were a dark shade of red – a gorgeous colour. His cheeks – inherited from his mother – were larger than usual, although _his_ cheeks in particular were massive. In fact they almost _drooped_.

He was oblivious to the fact he was named after a famous boy.

'Mum stays up until four o' clock in the mornin',' Rachel continued, folding her arms.

'. . . Only to do work,' Miles replied.

'Sure,' she grinned, unconvinced, 'Oh!' she beamed wider, 'When's Unca Alex coming next? Aww, last time was so awesome–'

'That's not up to me to decide.'

Her face slowly fell, '. . . Mum never wants him awound though. Last time he came over she was never awound, and she kicked him out when he had only stayed for an hour,' it didn't take long for her to start smiling again, 'I _love_ her reactions though when she 'ears his name – she's so dramatic about evewythin'.'

Miles had to laugh, accidently making his younger son jump in surprise.

The door swung open and all three exclaimed in fright. Olivier looked between them all before rolling her eyes from their responses, 'It's only me.'

'Hm, exactly,' Rachel muttered, and froze when her mother gave her a quick glare.

'I could hear you from the other room,' the blonde explained, sitting on the edge of the bed and kicking off her boots, 'Nice to know I'm so interesting to talk about.'

Rachel smirked, 'Did you get that window fixed?' she laughed, and earned a sarcastic chuckle from her senior.

'No I didn't. Fortunately though you only _smashed_ the window. You didn't _break_ it.'

The girl hesitated for a moment, and went over what her mother had just said. Miles gritted his teeth, preparing for what snarky remark his daughter was tempted to make.

'Don't "smashed" and "bwoken" mean the same thing?'

Olivier sighed heavily, 'Would it amaze you to know I don't really care?'

Rachel pulled a face.

As soon as Armstrong had settled, Edward instantly outstretched his hands for her to take him. Olivier took him from her partner's arms, and that was when she finally noticed him laying there.

'Evening,' she greeted, Edward quickly dozing to sleep in her arms.

'How was work?'

'. . . Morbid. I have a problem with an underling. He has this terrible attitude. Rachel knows – she would do. He needs to be sorted out.'

'We need to kill him,' Rachel said, lowering her voice.

'_Fire_ him,' Olivier corrected bluntly, 'But killing him would be quite pleasurable I have to admit.'

Miles almost slapped his forehead. Okay, if there was one similar trait about these two it would probably be the fact they _loved_ using sharp and/or deadly weapons. It was a little scary to know a six-year-old enjoyed firing small daggers towards a uniform.

Olivier Mira Armstrong wasn't the _perfect _ideal mother, but she was able to do her requiring needs. That was probably why they had decided _Miles_ be on paternity leave, than vise versa.

She didn't dislike her children – Miles was more than aware of that. Actually the cold, steely woman _adored _them, she just hated to admit it. There was a couple of time where he had worrying doubts, like the time when she had exclaimed, "I can't believe you put another one of those _things_ inside me!" when realising Edward had been conceived, or the time when she threatened Rachel that a monster called "Sloth" would come at night and eat her up if she wasn't a good little girl, but he was convinced she couldn't be happier without them.

Miles made sure Rachel would be content that there was no such "Sloth".

'Ooh, mum?'

'What?'

'When can Unca Alex come again?'

Olivier was disappointed when even Edward looked up at her in gleeful hope. Damn it all! Why did they _love_ that man so much? She always felt rejected when Alex came round because the children would be all over him and never talk to her until Alex was forced out of Briggs. But Alex loved the children so much – so much it actually freaked Olivier out.

And for some strange reason he liked to rip of his shirt in front of the two young children as well. And the young children didn't mind it either.

She cringed.

Miles had certainly had a few laughs when Rachel had curiously gone up to her mother and asked why she didn't strip off her top like her brother did.

"Because I have no shame," was her stern and cold reply.

Yes. She hated Alex.

'Someday.'

'Dat's what ya said two days ago,' Edward mumbled, hugging his teddy.

Olivier's eye twitched, 'Well he'll come round soon.'

'You promise?' Rachel grinned, nearing her mother dangerously.

'. . . Promise,' a whisper full of reluctance.

'Pro-o-o-o-o-mise?'

Rachel was pushing it now. She was deliberately trying to make her mother lose steam and go mental. Her daughter loved it when that happened. She also loved telling fellow Briggs Bears about certain incidents that had occurred. Her mother wasn't a happy bunny when she found out about the "rumours" whizzing around soon afterwards about Olivier "neglecting" her own daughter.

'I also wanna see Mister Mustang.'

Olivier shook.

Rachel beamed wider.

'Good luck trying to find your way to where he lives. . . wherever that is.'

'Thought you liked Miss Hawkeye,' Rachel said.

'I don't mind her – it's Mustang I _do_ mind.'

'Why?' Rachel giggled, 'He's handsome.'

Olivier gaped in disgust, 'You are not my daughter!'

'I think it's time we all went to bed now,' Miles suggested, now becoming a little concerned for his daughter's well being. Olivier was now glaring daggers at the girl, and all Rachel could do was roll around and laugh. Edward had become disturbed with this sudden interruption in his dozing and squeezed his eyes shut.

The half-Ishvalan hoisted his daughter up from the floor as she continued to laugh at her mother's expression. As soon as the father and daughter were gone from the room, Edward began to speak.

'Do you hate us, mummy?'

The question surprised her. She rose her eyebrows and looked down towards her son, frowned, 'No. What gives you that impression?'

He shrugged and yawned, 'You always seem ta. . . yell at us.'

'You may find this odd, but I actually tend to yell at people I like.'

'That's weird.'

Rachel's laughter could still be heard from the children's room, but it stopped shortly afterwards when Miles returned. He took a glance towards the boy in his partner's arms, and then at her.

'Should I take him?'

Olivier nodded, 'Might be a good idea. That hyena might start laughing at me again if she sees me.'

However said "hyena" came rushing back into the room again, and clinged onto her daddy's arm, 'I can't sleep in there. I wanna sleep with you two.'

Olivier's face fell. Great.

'I keep having nightmares of "Sloth".'

'Oh for the love of. . .'

'You did set it upon yourself,' Miles said, giving the woman a raised eyebrow.

She scoffed.

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><p>It didn't take long for Armstrong to grow impatient.<p>

Rachel, probably on purpose, could not lie still. She was tossing and turning, and occasionally tended to mutter something to herself before laughing.

Olivier flicked on the light and removed the quilt before standing up and grabbing her pillow. Rachel gave her a flashing grin before burying her face in the pillow and chuckling to herself. Miles raised his eyebrows in question.

'I'm sleeping in the office. Have a nice night,' Olivier stated.

'Olivier!' he scolded.

It was rare for him to say her name, and whenever he did it would usually make her stop and take him seriously. On other occasions when he would say her name would be. . . well, to her, that was more personal.

However tonight she didn't really care. She was exhausted from a hard day's work and her darling daughter was not helping.

'Yeah, Oli!' Rachel teased, mocking the nickname her mother had received from family members and even Miles himself. In fact, the Major Scar had occasionally dared himself to call her such a name – Rachel liked him very much.

'She's such a pest!' Olivier exclaimed, gesturing towards her oldest child who cracked up laughing.

Miles smiled, 'You do love her.'

'That's not the point,' and she stormed out of the room, leaving an icy path in her wake.

After settling down in her office chair, Olivier grabbed her Briggs jacket and wrapped it around her body before attempting to fall asleep. For a few seconds she slowly began to drift off, but the sound of the bedroom door creaked open and then silently shut again. Her eyes opened. Was Rachel _really_ that desperate to piss her off?

'Mummy?'

Her head turned towards the small boy looking up at her.

'Can I sleep with you? Rachel and daddy are being loud and I can't sleep.'

Olivier gave her child a small smile and picked him up from the floor, before placing him in her lap and wrapping the jacket around them both.


End file.
